The quiet Moments That Shape us.

In every generation, a community is shaped not only by the grand events recorded in books, but by the quiet moments we share with one another. A story passed over a garden wall, a recipe handed down, a neighbour who knows just when to knock—these are the threads that bind us. As another year comes to a close, we’re reminded that history is not a distant thing kept in archives; it is alive in the people who give their time, their talents, and their care.

The Historical Society thrives because of the many hands and hearts that choose to keep our stories alive. Whether by preserving old photographs, researching a forgotten anecdote, or simply attending an event, every small act becomes part of a much larger tapestry.

Here’s to the strength of community, and to the shared work of remembering who we are.

No name

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Poem

Keeping the Thread

In quiet streets and winter light,
We gather stories, hold them bright—
A patchwork made of voices old,
Of hands that worked, of tales once told.

Each gift of time, each offered skill
Becomes a spark that warms us still;
For history lives when people care,
And choose to meet, and choose to share.

So as the year draws softly near,
We honour all who brought us here—
A woven past, a shared tomorrow,
Held in trust, in joy, not sorrow.

Author Unknown

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Speaking of Death- they have set out on the trail of tru

 I marvelled at how hopefully the Irish language cares for the dead. Whereas in English we say ‘They are buried’ in Irish we say ‘Tá sid curtha.’ They are planted, thus implying new growth in due season. And whereas in English we say ‘We have laid them to rest’ in Irish we say ‘Tá sid imithe ar Shlí na Fírinne – they have set out on the Trail of Truth, the better translation being They have set out on the adventure of their immortality.

John Moriarty

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